Memoriam
by deathofadream
Summary: Four strangers awaken in an unfamiliar place, with no memory of who they are or how they got there. Can they unlock the secrets of their past?


The whispering was all Elacon had heard for as long as he could remember, which either meant forever or no time at all.

"You will forget."

It echoed in his head, coiling around his mind, a snake choking its prey. Somehow it felt unclear, like it wasn't really there; like the darkness in your periphery that disappears when you turn your head. It was as if he were reaching out for something, yet his fingers went straight through, catching nothing at all.

"Forget everything."

It remained the same as it repeated endlessly, the words never changing, the inflection of each one remaining static like the darkness that clouded everything around him. Somehow, he had not grown bored of it. It had been in his mind for as long as he could recall, but that was not a very long time, as he could not seem to recall much of anything. That was not to say he particularly enjoyed it, though; he was simply ambivalent to its presence. It, like himself, was just a subtle trace of something in an endless expanse of nothing. Just barely enough to be of note, but not enough to really be… there.

"Forget your past," the voice murmured, in much the same way it had done a million times before, "and do not let it define your future."

The voice belonged to a woman. That, Elacon knew. He also knew that he had known which woman it was, once. He had seen her face, felt her cuspate nails dig into his chest-but now all that remained was an empty visage, and the stab of pain in his heart had vanished long ago.

"You have a chance, now."

He was starting to grow tired of it, he realised. Then, he realised that he could realise. When had this happened? When had he become anything more than a clouded mind in an empty plane?

He looked around, or he thought he did, but he saw only blackness. "Hello?" he called out. Or did he? He didn't hear a word.

"Be better, Elacon."

For the first time he could recall in this eternal void, Elacon wondered _why _he was surrounded by infinite blackness. He wondered why the voice repeated constantly, never pausing, never changing. He wondered what had become of him, his body, his mind, the things he was sure he had once. And along with all the wondering came the reality. He took notice of the infinite void that surrounded him, empty and lifeless. He felt the seconds start to tick by, and began to wonder how long he had been in this prison.

_Be better, Elacon._

He tried to move, to run, but the ground was not beneath his feet; instead, he found that it pressed against his back, cold and hard and uncomfortable. His hands reached down, palms resting flat on the cool stone.

_Be better, Elacon._

_Elacon._

"Elf."

And then his eyes opened.

He was lying in a cubic room, his eyes tired, dry and entirely glazed over. He could vaguely discern the tan stone walls that surrounded him, worn down from age. Torchlight came from somewhere near him, and he found himself wincing. It was dim, but compared to that darkness it was blinding.

Before he could move, he was vigorously shaken by the hands that gripped both of his shoulders. His vision focused to see the human that leant over him, dark scruffy hair almost hiding the frustration on his face.

"Elf!"

Elacon immediately shoved the man away, breaking free of his grip. He instinctively reached down to his belt, his fingers fumbling at the empty scabbard where a dagger used to sit.

"Who are you?" he asked, scrambling to his feet. His eyes flitted about the cell, glancing at its looming walls and the strangers trapped within them. _Rats in a cage._

The man took a couple of steps back, raising his hands defensively. _Unarmed, then. _Perhaps he did not intend any harm.

Elacon saw him clearer now that he was illuminated by the torchlight. He was tall, maybe six feet. A rough smattering of stubble adorned his jawline, and the scraggly dark hair that covered his face did well to hide some of the scars that lingered there. He wore a suit of battered brown leather armour, accompanied by a ragged grey cloak that hung over his left shoulder and gently swayed beside his hip. At said hip, Elacon saw a quiver of bolts, presumably to accompany the crossbow slung over the man's back.

"Whoa, sorry," he said, his voice hoarse. "Didn't mean any harm. I was trying to wake-"

"_Who are you?_" Elacon repeated, a stern intensity in his tone.

"I don't know!" the man admitted. Elacon narrowed his eyes, disbelieving, but said nothing. "I… don't know my name. Neither does he," he said, gesturing across the room to a hulking mountain of a man who stood facing the wall, "and neither does she," as he gestured over in the other direction to where a woman knelt, still, a violet hood covering her head. "We just… woke up."

"Bullshit," Elacon said. "Tell me who I am, and tell me where I am, or I will damn well make you."

"I _can't._"

Both men fell silent. Elacon's empty hands twitched nervously. Was he being lied to? On the one hand, he could remember his own name; why couldn't they? On the other, why lie about something so asinine? Or, if they had to lie, why not use aliases? If he was indeed being deceived, it had no discernible benefit.

The silence started small, but seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment. Elacon examined the man's face, his eyes following the long scar that trailed from his brow to his jawline, carving through the stubble that was beginning to grow on his weathered visage. Finally, the man reached down into a pouch at his side and pulled out a dagger, black as the darkness that had surrounded Elacon moments prior. He flipped the dagger in his hand, before tossing it over to the elf, who caught it cleanly.

"There you go. Feel better now?"

Elacon gripped the dagger firmly, running his fingers over the fine grooves in the hilt, his thumb lingering on the ravenshead pommel. He slowly lowered his hand back to his side, nodding his assent.

"Somewhat," he replied. "So you're not… You haven't captured me? This isn't some… interrogation?"

"No," the man shot back. "I couldn't give less of a shit about who you are, or what you've done, or anything like that. All I want is to get out of here so we can all go our separate ways."

"Hm." Elacon glanced over at the other two strangers in the room with them. "None of you know your names?"

"Nope. We've come up with some nicknames. I'm the man, he's the goliath, and she's the tiefling," he explained, pointing towards the other two respectively.

"Clever." Finally, Elacon slipped the dagger back into its holster. It was obvious now: he was dealing with a simpleton. There would be no need for weapons.

"And now, I guess you're the elf."

"Yes," Elacon replied. "I suppose I am."

As the man opened his mouth to speak again, the pair heard a loud _crack _from the far wall. They looked over to where the goliath stood, shaking dust and broken stone from his boulder-like fist. The wall remained intact, though Elacon was surprised to see a series of thin lines in its surface.

"He's strong," Elacon remarked.

"Oh, you noticed," the man responded, his voice low. "He's one of the reasons I want to get out of here as soon as possible."

As if he sensed them talking about him, the goliath turned to look at the pair of them, a stern expression on his face. Dark tattoos covered most of it, symmetrical patterns that surely meant something to him, but meant nothing to Elacon whatsoever. The half-giant held the torch in his other hand, its light flickering over his face, lengthening the tattoos and shortening them all in the same breath. His cold eyes would be visible for a moment, before dipping back into shadow. It was unsettling, to say the least. Elacon noticed that he looked almost like a statue, a colossus brought to life; he was built of pure muscle, and his skin was the drab, lifeless grey than only stone could have. As he stood there, a titan among them, Elacon suddenly found himself feeling rather small.

"I can see why," he muttered back to the man.

Then the goliath himself spoke, his voice a deep bellow that echoed off the walls of the space.

"Are you two going to stand there all day?"

A simple enough question. Elacon had almost expected a threat of death; this was a pleasant surprise.

"I only just woke up," he replied, "but I'm willing to help. Have we found anything so far?"

"I found a wall," the goliath said. He raised his clenched hand, letting a little dust float off. "Give me ten minutes, and-"

"And you'll break your hands?" Elacon finished. "That's helpful."

The goliath cocked his head to one side, his dark eyes narrowing. "I will break nothing."

"Then there's not much point in punching the wall, is there?"

"We found something else," the man quickly interjected, before the goliath could reply. "On the other side. Come here."

He led Elacon away from the goliath, to the far wall of the room. As they passed by the tiefling, Elacon shot a cursory glance at her. As his eyes found her, he realised that she was looking up at him, too. Their eyes locked for the slightest moment before he looked away again, not waiting to see if she did as well. It was said that a tiefling could corrupt a man with her eyes. Stare into his soul and blacken it from within. It wasn't true-and as an elf, Elacon knew that people would say anything to put down those they hate-but the rumour came to mind nonetheless.

He wondered why she was sitting on the floor rather than helping, but it didn't seem the time to ask. They had reached the wall by that point, and the man was standing in front of it, leaning forwards, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Something the matter?" he asked.

"That's strange," the man murmured in response. "They were there before…"

"What were?"

The man brushed his hair back with his hand, though his face was still shrouded in shadow. "Some… runes? Symbols, carved into the wall."

Elacon squinted at the bricks. They seemed plain enough to him. He reached out, running his fingertips down the stone.

"Are you sure? I don't feel anything."

"Yeah, I…"

His voice trailed off as a faint glow began to emanate from the wall. It began as a soft golden light, slowly growing, and growing, until it was as bright as the torch the goliath held. The man was right-the light came from three runic symbols, all strange patterns.

But Elacon recognised them.

"This is an incantation," he whispered. "The magic symbols used to denote spells."

"It's a spell?"

"Yes," Elacon confirmed.

"Do you recognise it?"

In reply, Elacon murmured the runes under his breath. _De manu mortis. _The runes dimmed slightly, and the man watched in horror as a withered black hand emerged from Elacon's wrist, its skeletal fingers tracing the stonework. Then the hand disappeared, and so did the runes, and in their place, a doorway began to appear.

"It was magically hidden," Elacon said. "But not anymore."

_But that spell doesn't break magic. Was this door designed to be found?_

"Is it locked?" asked a new voice. Elacon turned to see the tiefling standing behind them, her face still cloaked by the shadows from her hood. She had a pleasant voice, almost melodic in tone. It was a nice contrast from the gruffness of the other two men.

"Let's find out," the man replied, reaching for the handle. A thousand thoughts raced through Elacon's mind in the span of a second, imaginings of the dangers that could come from trying to open this door. Then the man pulled it open with a soft _click, _and the thoughts suddenly dissipated.

"Damn," said the goliath, making Elacon jump. He had been so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed the giantsblood approach.

"Don't worry, big guy," the man said, "we're not home free yet. There might be more for you to break along the way."

The goliath cracked a small grin, eliciting an imperceptible sigh from Elacon.

"Onwards then," the half-giant boomed, "into the unknown!"

He marched through the doorway, not sparing a moment's thought for the others. Elacon shot an exasperated look at the human, but all he got in response was a carefree smirk.

_Why must I be the only one with any sense?_

As the man strode off in the goliath's footsteps, Elacon felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to face the tiefling, and she gave him a concerned frown.

"How are you feeling?"

For a moment, he wasn't sure how to respond. He hadn't expected a question like this, least of all from her.

In truth, he didn't know how he felt. Here he was, standing in the real world again, finally. And yet he remembered nothing of his life. Would he even be the same person? Was Elacon still alive?

"I'm fine," he said. "Let's go."

And he turned away, following the others.


End file.
